“You dare not do—­”

“And why not?  You promise me death either way; what have I to lose then by sending you first?  It will rid the girl of you, and that means something to me—­and her.  Just try me, and see.”

He must have read the grim meaning in my face, for he fell back against the log, muttering incoherently, his dark eyes wells of hate, his face a picture of malignancy, but utterly helpless—­the lurking coward in him, unable to face my threat.  I left him and stooped above her.

“We shall be busy presently; the delay cannot be much longer.  I am afraid that fellow may succeed somehow in doing us harm.  He is crazed enough to attempt anything.  May I trust you to guard him?”

Her eyes, absolutely fearless and direct, looked straight up into mine.

“Yes, he will make no movement I shall not see.  Tell me; do you believe there is hope?”

“God knows.  We shall do our best.  If the worst comes—­what?”

“Do not fear for me; do not let any memory of me turn you aside from your work,” she said quietly.  “I know what you mean and pledge you I shall never fall into his hands.  It—­it cannot be wrong, I am sure, and—­and I must tell you that.  I—­I could not, Steven, for—­for I love you.”

My eager hands were upon hers, my eyes greedily reading the message revealed so frankly in the depths of her own.  She only was in my thoughts; we were there alone—­alone.

“They’re a comin’, Cap,” yelled Kennedy and his rifle cracked.  “By God! they’re here!”

With one swift spring I was back at my deserted post and firing.  Never before had I been in an Indian battle, but they had told me at Armstrong that the Sacs were fighting men.  I knew it now.  This was to be no play at war, but a grim, relentless struggle.  They came en masse, rushing recklessly forward across the open space, pressing upon each other in headlong desire to be first, yelling like fiends, guns brandished in air, or spitting fire, animated by but one purpose—­the battering of a way into that cabin.  I know not who led them—­all I saw was a mass of half-naked bodies bounding toward me, long hair streaming, copper faces aglow, weapons glittering in the light.  Yes, I saw more—­the meaning of that fierce rush; the instrument of destruction they brought with them.  It was there in the center of the maelstrom of leaping figures, protected by the grouped bodies, half hidden by gesticulating red arms—­a huge log, borne irresistibly forward on the shoulders of twenty warriors, gripped by other hands, and hurled toward us as though swept on by a human sea.  Again and again I fired blindly into the yelping mob; I heard the crack of Tim’s rifle echoing mine, and the chug of lead from without striking the solid logs.  Bullets ploughed crashing through the door panels and Elsie’s shrill screams of fright rang out above the unearthly din.  A slug tore through my loophole, drawing blood from my shoulder